prompt: ferry, candy, darkness

The wind hit Sandra’s face, a faint spray from the bay splashing across her cheek. She could sit inside the ferry’s cabin with her friends, but something about the cotton candy colored clouds and the sun setting into the horizon beckoned Sandra outside. 

They were running away. Her family–back on the island, already cast into the darkness of night–had no idea that when they woke they’d be missing a daughter. Her friends, as well, all of them, slipping off into the night. 

The wind rushed by Sandra’s ears, a whirl so loud it managed to push away her thoughts, the mild panic, the exhilarating freedom. On the other side of the bay, she would step foot into her new life. But for now, it was only her and the ferry, under the cotton candy colored clouds, escaping the darkness.

prompt: brie, bookshop, bland

Janet’s fingers brushed along the spine of the book, before she flipped it open to the first photo of brie. 

“Not that one.” It was like a buzzed whisper, not quite a hiss, from the other side of the bookstore. Janet ignored it and turned to the first recipe.

“Bland.” She heard the buzz again and this time couldn’t help but turn to look over her shoulder. No one was down the aisle of books, and on the other side it was just the shopkeeper seemingly consumed with his computer. 

Janet put the book in her basket. 

“I can’t allow it.” The buzz had turned into a distinct voice, and when she looked back at the shopkeeper he was no longer looking at the computer. Instead, he was holding out a different book towards Janet, another one about brie. 

“Now this one, is anything but bland.”

Janet looked down at the book in her basket. “Then why do you sell this one at all?”

The shopkeeper laughed, gesturing around the store. “A whole shop devoted to cookbooks. Had to find something to fill the shelves.”

Janet chuckled and reached for the book, flipping through the pages. “There’s no pictures,” she observed.

“Well–” the shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to marvel at it, or cook with it?” 

“Both?”

The shopkeeper beamed. “Then I’ll just ring up both of them, how does that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re good at your job. No wonder you’ve managed to keep this shop open.”

“Gift wrapping?” he offered. “50% off for such a kind customer.”

Janet shook her head with amusement. “Don’t push it.”

prompt: doughnut, lost, bathing suit

Anna was half under the bed, her arm reaching blindly for a bathing suit. The slipper she’d been missing for months, found. Bathing suit? Not so much. “It’s supposed to be here!”

“Under your bed?” Daniel asked, between bites of a doughnut.

“Well, no.” Anna pushed out from under the bed and blew her bangs in frustration. “It was supposed to be in my drawer, but it wasn’t. I thought maybe the storage bin with summer stuff, but that was a no-go either, and then I checked the garage, then the guest room closet, then the–”

Daniel’s eyebrows lifted as Anna spoke. When he finally swallowed the doughnut, he looked like he’d wished he hadn’t asked the question. Anna agreed, it was a stupid question. 

“Okay, okay, I get it.” With the doughnut finally finished, Daniel could lift his hands as if they were a shield between himself and Anna’s increasing anger and frustration. 

Anna rolled her eyes. “I can’t find it.”

“Well, on the upside, there’s more doughnuts?”

Anna growled and pushed herself to her feet. “I can’t swim in a doughnut, Daniel.”

He couldn’t quite hide the smirk that followed whatever mental image Anna’s words had invoked, and Anna couldn’t quite help herself either. She threw her newly found slipper right towards Daniel’s face. 

“Go bring me a doughnut.” 

New Year

She waits; face painted and eyes aglow.  The hand of the clock moves closer to the next year, a new year.  She’s gathered her apparel, adorned her jewels, and is ready to fly over the merriment. For only tonight does she live outside the minds of those who call to her, only tonight.

“Five!” Someone shouts from beyond.

“Four!” The group gets louder, she spreads her wings.

“Three!” They scream now with raised glasses.

“Two!” She hovers, breath caught.

“One!” She takes to the air as a song breaks out. Below her the humans laugh, kiss.

No one notices her vestige, no one sees her garb. Yet they feel her presence. One man twirls his partner, a lady with a wide smile, and proclaims wildly that he will turn a new leaf. A woman grabs her friend’s hand, pulls the smaller frame into a hug and resolves to laugh more. Another man gets down on one knee with a diamond, another woman throws out her pack of cigarettes….

She flies, for sixty seconds and then she disappears.

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Fairy by Teatro Escola de Pelotas CC BY 2.0

Written for: Photo Challege #93

The Journey

I watch the droplets trail down the window from inside my boyfriend’s car. The water makes rivers across the glass, distorting the gray skyscrapers.

We’re tripping on shrooms.

I know, I know, we shouldn’t be driving. I told my boyfriend this, so that excuses my own irresponsibility. I nod at the skyscraper as if they can nod back in agreement. The festival is downtown, so downtown is where our journey takes us.

Plus, the shrooms haven’t even kicked in yet. Well not entirely.

We pull into a spot. My boyfriend slides his hand into mine as we walk along the gray sidewalk nestled between the gray skyscrapers and gray street. The rain soaks our hair and clothes and leaves me with the desire to twirl on the sidewalk, so I do.

“What is a rain dance when it’s already raining?” A man asks me from inside my own mind. It’s a gravelly voice and for a moment I smell campfire smoke.

My thoughts flutter, from gray to vivid, colorful images. As we approach the festival, the man’s voice returns, the shrooms kick in. “No river can return to its source, yet all rivers must have a beginning.

I nod with the man in my head and enter the festival.


Written for this week’s Flash!Friday and as always, the piece follows a two part prompt…

1) Setting in Downtown

2) Photo to incorporate:

Navajo man representing the Yebichai god Zahabolzi/Zahadolzha. 1904 PD photo by Edward S. Curtis; image retrieved from Wellcome Images.

Navajo man representing the Yebichai god Zahabolzi/Zahadolzha. 1904 PD photo by Edward S. Curtis; image retrieved from Wellcome Images.

Driving Test III

Benjamin Martin III needed to pass his Driver’s Test. At fifteen, he was not behind his peers per se but he had attempted the test twice…and failed. No one knew this and no one ever would.

He could already hear Sam’s obnoxious jeers. His friend, who had a penchant for stealing cars, would give him a speech about manhood and responsibility. Ben would try his hardest not to punch Sam in the face, and probably fail.

Worse still, Sam would probably taunt him in front of Violet.

Ben gripped the wheel of the familiar sedan. He hadn’t told his parents either. They were on a trip saving the world, or something. Sarah had completed her test the first time around (because Sarah was perfect) and sometimes you avoid comparisons with your sibling when you knew you’d be the one lacking.

The steering wheel was made of leather or some other material that crinkled his palms as he curled his fists. The lady, the same lady as the last two attempts, pulled open the door with a click and slid into the leather. Her meaty arms rubbed against his as she leaned across to put the keys in the ignition.

He could do this.

“You know the route.” The woman stated blandly. Ben read ridicule into her words.

He nodded and switched the car from Park to Reverse. He checked his mirrors, took a deep breath and released the break.

Miami streets were usually busy but at 10am the road was blissfully empty. On his first attempt, he had to react to a car cutting him off and apparently reacted badly. His teeth clenched at the memory and he tried to banish it from his mind.

The ride continued smoothly. So smooth that Ben holds his breath as they turn back into the DMV.

“Three times in three weeks. You must really want this license.” The woman commented to her clipboard.

Ben pulled the car into the lot and moved the gear stick from Drive to Park before answering. He didn’t want to tell this woman that he needed his license for a stupid activism movement. He didn’t want to explain how he and Sam and Violet took on officer roles at Transparent and now he needed to be at Bayfront Park after school every day. He didn’t want to go into the fact that his parents couldn’t take him to Bayfront and Sam’s stolen vehicles were not an option for Violet and, thus, not an option for him.

Instead he shrugged. “If the United Migration already decided to kick us out of this City, I figured I should leave on wheels.”

The woman snorted, shuffling out of the car. “And soon Florida licenses will be a collector’s item.” She smiled like the statement held some incentive but it just made Ben want to drive the car off the nearest dock and into the ocean.

Instead, he returned her smile and waited as the woman checked off her boxes. Finally, she looked up and stated just as blandly as before: “You passed.”


*The character in this prompt is from my WIP novel. This scene is not part of the novel but merely a writing exercise to get my Monday morning flowing.

Monday Writing Prompts-Driving Test

This writing prompt is another one from my upcoming Writing Genre Fiction book and it’s from the chapter titled change the plot. All you need to do is rewrite it so the outcome is different-

Your character is taking their driver’s test for the third time but this time passes it with flying colors.

Hair Curler and Key Rings

She was already late, despite setting her alarm two hours early and planning her outfit the night before. She was already late because sometimes Anne got a little too caught up in the mirror, fixing the way her hair fell down her neck in perfect curls – caring more about the way she looks than punctuality. She knows it about herself (and hates it) but does little to fix it despite the consequences.

But today, Anne had been ready. Even with the extra five minutes on her hairdo, she would have been out the door and on her way. Except, she had not factored in the now ninety-seven seconds she’d spent trying to find her keys.

An app on her phone that shows the train schedule blinks red, if she doesn’t leave in the next three minutes she’ll miss her way into the city. She’ll miss her interview, all because of a hair curler and a ring of keys.

Anne presses her hands along her suit pants straightening the fabric and looks over her apartment in havoc – overturned couch cushions, desk drawers open and nearly falling to the floor. Her hair had stayed perfectly in place during the expedition; she knew this because she had spared the half second to look in the mirror that hangs in her foyer… twice.

Right now though, she wanted to pull at the curled strands. She would not find the keys in time. Her feet made the decision for her as she headed out of the apartment, to her interview. She left her front door unlocked with a quick prayer that all her stuff would be there when she returned. Except the curling iron, the burglars could take that.


Inspired by:

Monday Writing Prompt-Lost Keys

Here’s another prompt taken from upcoming and third book in my Writing Genre Fiction series and this one is from the chapter on scenarios-

Your character loses their car keys.

Have fun and happy writing.

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